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of ghosts and contemplations
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r
rememorari
I keep memory in absence though your story has a long forgotten ending I will bury my ghosts in the afterlife of moments and let effort be a windowsill to the crematorium of burdens, the echo of living the ashes of longing, a cemetery of remembrance and in your memory I find someone to stay
p
prompt: probably
an indistinct spiral problem of statistics casino of odds; this broken slot machine keeps handing me lemons
d
dancing vibrations
braided DNA, radioactive vertebrae, x-rays evocative portraits of the soul when bones are plaid banners, patriots to only themselves shadows swaying to birds leaning into color, interlocking whispers of potential multicolored ladder, footsteps of the sun waiting to combust into motion
i
integument
fistfights rolling in her mouth indiscriminate and knock-out, slap the bruises purple lavender and nightshade tucked beneath the pillow, polyester sheath; grudges bloom where love sleeps
P
Prompt: Firefighter
a plate tectonic rift, we rise through the cracks shedding aftershocks. we are molten, boiling exhales to the horizon puckered citrus, kisses orange and yellow, wildfires erupting, wildflowers of autumn suns, volcanic petals plucked one by one until a silence stem blooms barren.
P
Prompt: Crowded
Ants on my skin marching grains of sand to accumulate in my chest where my heart pumps like an hourglass sifting sandstorm seen through the glass of my eyes, the crowd like colliding particles, igniting the air with plasma the thunderstorm rolls in
p
prompt: hairline
follicle fields she sews saffron into the night and eclipses the color of shooting stars because somehow she is the sky and silver is no longer a precious metal but the grim twilight, color of ashen skin and still lakes full of stones; crematorium full of bones
P
Prompt: Edits
I've been thinking about titles chapters, novels, holy books and the names we give ourselves bold or italics and are they subject to change? I would like to think we are editors but such revisions can occur premature, and when is the time to take red marker and rewrite the momentary nature of something and will it believe the intention justifies the means when it involves a detonation; that sometimes a disassembling is the greatest form of love that when I take an international flight and begin folding your corners and creating "cut here" signals along the delicate skin like a plastic surgeon it is because the space between us is suddenly fi
f
foreigners
I kissed a boy from two countries. We intertwined like branches - rooted palm to palm, and swayed like red maple leaves in a summer breeze
S
Solus
Sometimes I am empty - the hollow shell of an egg; some cavernous alcove of life, unfertilized.
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r
rememorari
I keep memory in absence though your story has a long forgotten ending I will bury my ghosts in the afterlife of moments and let effort be a windowsill to the crematorium of burdens, the echo of living the ashes of longing, a cemetery of remembrance and in your memory I find someone to stay
i
integument
fistfights rolling in her mouth indiscriminate and knock-out, slap the bruises purple lavender and nightshade tucked beneath the pillow, polyester sheath; grudges bloom where love sleeps
P
Prompt: Firefighter
a plate tectonic rift, we rise through the cracks shedding aftershocks. we are molten, boiling exhales to the horizon puckered citrus, kisses orange and yellow, wildfires erupting, wildflowers of autumn suns, volcanic petals plucked one by one until a silence stem blooms barren.
p
prompt: hairline
follicle fields she sews saffron into the night and eclipses the color of shooting stars because somehow she is the sky and silver is no longer a precious metal but the grim twilight, color of ashen skin and still lakes full of stones; crematorium full of bones
f
foreigners
I kissed a boy from two countries. We intertwined like branches - rooted palm to palm, and swayed like red maple leaves in a summer breeze
S
Solus
Sometimes I am empty - the hollow shell of an egg; some cavernous alcove of life, unfertilized.
L
Lustrare
The street lights hung like floating will-o-the-wisps, calling us to make memories: a two lane highway, age broken down into mile markers. The sleeping town was disrupted by our youth. We were bright colors in monotone scenery. We drove with the windows down. I wasn't wearing any shoes, bare feet on the products of industrial revolution. Bare feet, each sensation a revolution of the pre-conceived, an epiphany of life; I felt reckless with invincibility. Overnight we acquired a kingdom, the town too subdued to wage war, and the stars were pearled crowns thrown back with our laughter. There was a whole universe in the darkness, life a force o
P
Prompt: Emblem
Stars and stripes hung like a depiction of meteorites the donkeys and the elephants march perpendicular to one another    left, right, left, right taking prisoners of politics causalities of a blind republic who cannot think outside of which foot goes first common ground is now a crumbling bridge that only the few brave; the rest just scream across the divide
B
Birnan
Peacock decay molting in shades of blue; hand-to-mouth days that strike the tongue on Styx and Hades, ignited pyre of the papier-mâché. We build our horizon in languid tombs - call it forgiveness, a freckled nostalgia. A messy rendition of hearts seen through Picasso’s bias. Bringing ourselves to form: hanging from the world, crooked mantle of Caesar’s crown But you will trust the wick of us to burn, just as you trust the sun to rise.
W
We Spell Numbers Like Trainwrecks
On time, though shoelaces trip onto the platform in pools of chronological disaster; I sleepwalk through the stations. Destinations incremental alarms marching block-pocked toes across my skin in fists of three; hit snooze. Hit snooze again. Skin of empty calendar folds - reminder: desperation is a coward wearing bedsheet capes in which we dream nostalgia. When I woke to stretch my legs my kneecaps were Viking helmets, and it was time to join the war.

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M
Metamorphose
Curled like a hermit crab he inches through heartbreak one pygmy shell at a time
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About SoundlessWhispers

Dec 31
United States
Deviant for 8 years

What Do You Think About My Work?653

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YouInventedMe's avatar
Happy Birthday! :cake:
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SoundlessWhispers's avatar
A belated thank you for the birthday wishes! :D
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arctoa's avatar
arctoa|Student Photographer
An impressive collection of works.
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Nullibicity's avatar
:heart: www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7hgRm… :heart:
I love you more than the ocean loves the moon. You make my life beautiful. I will never not need you, my beautiful sunlight.
p.s. thanks for being my best friend.
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Nullibicity's avatar
Swoon~ well if you aren't the hottest lunatic I've ever seen in my life. Pray tell, WHERE have you been?
By you, I mean your poems (obviously I saw you yesterday). Am I needy? Yes. The life of an addict is never dull, or satiated. So take pity on me woman, and scrawl your lunacy onto a paper so I can have a fix, yeah?

You caught me. I just really need a caffeine fix. But dang, look at those words of truth up there. Gotham needs you.
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SoundlessWhispers's avatar
:uhwhat: ... what the hell are you doing? Do you need some kind of help? I don't even know you. I would appreciate it if you stopped spamming my pages.
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